What Could Have Been
by mahlia
Summary: While helping the Justice League fight a battle against Darkseid, Nightwing is hurt and winds up in what he thinks is a familiar place: Gotham. But in this Gotham, Dick's parents were never murdered, and his family all lead lives free of the pain & suffering Dick's accustomed to. When the time comes, will Dick go back? Or will he stay to live a life he never got the chance to have?
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this for the 2019 DCU Bang and it's my first attempt at anything like this.

It's also the first time I've written any kind of multiverse fic. And while it was tough, I enjoyed writing it.

Have fun and thanks for reading!

* * *

As far as Wednesdays went, Dick was positive this was among the worst ever. He was fairly certain none of his previous Wednesdays involved saving the planet from all-out extinction, but here they were, trying to do just that. What began as the Titans responding to a temporal anomaly on the outskirts of Metropolis quickly devolved into an all-out brawl to keep Darkseid from sending his entire parademon army to Earth.

Come to think of it, this might even be a top-ten worst day, period. And that was _after_ most of the Justice League arrived.

He paused for a moment to catch his breath and watched as Troia carried Arsenal high into the air. Roy drew an arrow, likely one with an incendiary tip, and fired directly at one of the power supplies for the device holding the boom tube portal open. The arrow hit its target and blew the sensor, sending a black cloud of smoke billowing into the air. The explosion caught Darkseid's attention and he sent a wave of parademons after Roy and Donna. Seconds later, he heard Roy's voice in his earpiece.

"Guys? I have good news and bad news."

Green Arrow chimed in from somewhere across the battlefield. Dick guessed he was up on the interstate overpass, firing from the bridge.

"Good news first, kid."

Roy grunted and said something to Donna, none of which anyone was able to understand. A moment later, he spoke again.

"We can close the boom tube and send Darkseid packing."

Dick made his way through a small contingent of parademons, using a blast from his escrima sticks to take them down. He winced and rolled his shoulders, willing the tightness to go away. He had no idea how long they'd been fighting, but he was quickly running out of gas.

Hal Jordan spoke up next.

"Well, someone's gotta ask. What's the bad news, Arsenal?"

There was another explosion directly above Dick's head and he looked up to see Hal put up a shield to protect Donna and Roy from the blast wave as Roy took out another power supply.

"The only way to access them is from up here. You can't hit them from the ground."

There was a flurry of activity above him and Dick watched Wonder Woman, Superman, John Stewart, and Martian Manhunter take off toward the edges of the portal. Batman followed in the Batwing for air support. Dick took off running back toward where Tim and Damian were helping defend Vic as he tried to figure out a way to get them out of this mess. He arrived in time to crack a parademon across the back of the head, sending it to the ground in a heap before it could pounce on Tim. Tim whirled around, ready to strike. He glanced down and smiled in relief.

"Thanks, Nightwing."

Dick grinned and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees.

"Don't mention it." He turned to Vic, who was furiously typing away.

"Any progress?"

Vic nodded and rotated his arm to show Dick what he found.

"I can open a second boom tube to send him back."

Flash came to a stop next to Dick in a rush of smoke-filled air and dust. He nodded at both of them and removed a small vial from his pocket. Dick recognized it as a concentrated dose of glucose and electrolytes. When Wally reached for one of those, he was either getting ready to do something really heroic, or really risky.

He hoped what Vic was about to suggest fell into neither category.

"This will only work if we can get the main boom tube closed. If we can do that and keep Darkseid busy, I can open a boom tube behind him. Someone's just gotta knock him into it."

Wally looked at the ground, then back at Dick with a grin.

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

Dick shook his head and put a hand on Wally's arm.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Look around, Nightwing. Most of the League is busy trying to close the boom tube. Garth, Lilith, and other members of the League are trying to keep them from getting to Metropolis. We don't have time to debate this."

Dick looked around. Wally was right. If they didn't do this and do it now, there was a high likelihood they could lose the fight. He felt hands on his shoulders, and both Tim and Damian stepped forward.

"We'll keep a clear perimeter around Cyborg," Tim added. "That way he can work without interference."

Vic nodded and looked at the sky, then at Wally.

"Can you generate enough power to keep the boom tube open long enough for someone to shove him through it? Darkseid's gonna fight like hell."

Wally held up the injector pen and flashed a grim smile.

"Sure can."

"Then that settles it. Red Robin and I will protect Cyborg, Flash will generate the energy required to keep the boom tube open, and the League should be almost finished destroying Darkseid's boom tube."

Damian fell silent when he realized the only job left was to distract Darkseid and knock him through Vic's boom tube. Before he could say anything further, Batman's gruff voice came through their comms.

"Nightwing, don't even think about it. You need to wait for backup."

Dick bit the inside of his cheek and looked around one more time. Parademons continued to flood through the boom tube faster than they could take them out. It wouldn't be long before they were all completely overwhelmed.

"Batman, we don't have _time_. If we don't do this, we'll not only lose Metropolis, but we could lose all of it."

Wally and Vic both looked at him, their faces resolute in what was about to happen.

"Try and keep him busy for as long as you can," Vic said. "Based on my count, there are only two power supplies left. It should collapse after that, so keep an eye out. Once I open the second one, you can knock him through it."

Dick felt his stomach flip and he forced a smile. It sounded so simple, though it was anything but. He wasn't sure how in the hell he was supposed to take on Darkseid, but they all must think him capable, or they wouldn't have suggested the plan. After all, it was the best chance they had.

Well, the _only_ chance they had. Big difference.

He ruffled Damian's hair and squeezed Tim's shoulder before he turned back to the battlefield. Wally fell into step beside him as he walked away.

"Don't do anything more than you have to, alright? But if you get stuck, tell me and I'll be there to get you out."

He pretended not to notice Wally's concerned frown and shrugged.

"I'll be fine. Just get that boom tube open and leave the rest to me."

He glanced over his shoulder one last time, memorizing the scene with a sad smile. Tim was busy talking to Vic, but Damian's devastated expression said it all.

_Bye, kiddo._

"See you later, guys."

Before they could say anything more, Dick took off running. Darkseid was stationed just north of their current position and if he was lucky, he could get close enough to catch him off-guard when the time came. He took cover when another explosion rang out, shielding his head from the debris raining down.

"Two down, one to go," he heard Hal say. "Diana, on my signal- take your shot."

Dick braced himself against a burned-out school bus and waited. Moments later, there was another explosion. He peered around the end of the bus, watching as the boom tube began to collapse. Darkseid turned his attention from the battlefield to the sky above him.

"Do you think you can take Darkseid on and win? I'm a _god_, you fools!"

Now free to take out the remaining parademons, the rest of the Titans and Justice League shifted their focus back to the battlefield, save for two. Superman and Wonder Woman took off toward Darkseid.

"Nightwing, we'll keep him busy and wait for your cue, got it?"

"Copy that, Superman."

From his vantage point, Dick watched as a boom tube opened near the ground several hundred yards away. Darkseid was up on a radio tower, standing on the platform at the top, centered conveniently above the boom tube he hadn't noticed yet. His eyes narrowed and he smiled; this plan was almost too easy.

"Wally, I need a quick favor."

"Anything."

"Bring me the explosives Robin and Red Robin both have in their belts. I'm gonna blow the tower he's standing on."

"Copy that."

Seconds later, Wally stood next to him at the base of the tower, his hands full of plastic explosive. He quirked an eyebrow and looked at Dick.

"What are you doing?"

"Never mind that. Just get back to Vic- he needs your help. I can handle this."

Wally gave him a worried frown and disappeared.

He worked quickly to wire the explosives to the rear support columns. They only needed it to collapse backward a short distance, and it was the only safe way to knock him back without getting too close. The boom tube was now completely open and somehow Darkseid still hadn't noticed. Superman and Wonder Woman were trading blows with him, having to also avoid the omega beam.

"Flash, can you go any faster? I need you at maximum speed for this to work."

"On it," came Wally's breathless reply.

Dick watched as the boom tube opened wider, then stabilized. That was his chance.

"Superman, be ready with that right cross of yours. I'm blowing the supports in ten seconds."

He inserted the remote detonator and sprinted back toward the school bus for cover.

"Three, two, one."

The shock wave from the explosion knocked Dick to his knees and he glanced up to see the tower sway once, then twice before falling backward. Superman sailed in, hitting Darkseid square in the chest and knocking him backward off the tower.

Darkseid fell toward the opening of the boom tube, struggling as Superman continued to pummel him. He'd been caught unaware and couldn't regain the upper hand. But then nearly a dozen parademons swarmed Superman, giving Darkseid a chance to avoid falling through the boom tube. He landed on the ground in front of it, bruised and battered, but not defeated.

"Uh, Vic? We have a serious problem. He hasn't gone through yet."

Vic's voice was strained.

"I can't hold this open for much longer, even with Flash's help. You gotta do something!"

Dick closed his eyes and sighed.

This was what heroes do, after all.

He drew his escrima sticks and carefully made his way through the wreckage. Darkseid was only two hundred yards from him now, picking himself up and preparing to attack. It was then he noticed the boom tube.

And he laughed.

"You pitiful, primitive creatures. _This_ is how you intended to defeat Darkseid?"

"Well, yeah. The simplest plans tend to be the most effective. How can someone as intelligent as you not see that?"

Darkseid spun around, narrowing his eyes.

"You. You're the one they call Nightwing, are you not?"

"Nightwing, _don't_."

Against his better judgment and everything Bruce ever taught him about engaging an opponent you can't beat, Dick stepped forward, wincing at Bruce's worried plea in his ear. He grinned and glanced behind him, noticing that only one of the charges had gone off. The other still had the detonator in it and the light was blinking. If he charged one of his escrima sticks, it could set off the detonator and send Darkseid packing.

"The one and only! And I'm here to ask you to leave. You are not, nor will you ever be, welcome here. Haven't you learned that lesson yet?"

Darkseid's chest heaved in anger. He reminded Dick of one of the cartoon bulls that breathed out steam when it was pissed off. If he could get Darkseid angry enough, he might not notice Dick prime the escrima stick in his right hand.

It was worth a shot.

"You should bow down in front of me, human. Disrespecting a god will only make your inevitable death more painful."

Dick took a deep breath and twirled the stick in his right hand.

It was now or never.

"Wally, on my count. I need you to get me clear of the blast wave. I'm gonna set off the other charge."

Darkseid tilted his head.

"Your insolence is ill-advised, but entertaining."

"Dude, no. You're too close. I might not get there in time." Wally's voice was panicked, and Dick hated himself for putting him in this situation.

"We have to try," Dick replied, flicking the switch on the handle. His escrima stick sparked to life and the charge glowed bright blue on the end.

"Here goes nothing."

He bounced the escrima stick off a slab of broken concrete next to Darkseid, watching as it hit the charge on the ground at his feet. Dick grinned at the telltale beep of the charge in the seconds before it exploded.

"You've overstayed your welcome, Darkseid. Get the hell off our planet."

He heard Wally over his earpiece and his stomach dropped.

"Dick, don't! If I stop running, the boom tube closes! We'll find another way!"

Dick turned and bolted, trying to get back behind the bus he'd been using for cover before the explosion took him out.

"Too late, Wallman. Just make sure this guy doesn't come back, okay?"

The explosion knocked Dick off his feet, throwing him forward onto a pile of rubble. His breath was knocked from his lungs and he closed his eyes, trying to focus long enough to determine what was happening. His ears were ringing something awful, but he could still hear the roar of Darkseid.

Dick felt a large hand wrap itself around his ankle and pull. Fire ripped through his abdomen and he looked down, tasting blood in his mouth. When he'd fallen forward, he landed on a sharp piece of metal from the radio tower. With an anguished scream, he pushed himself up and off it, wincing as he was dragged across the debris toward the boom tube. Darkseid was being pulled into it and with what little energy he had left, he was taking Dick with him.

"If Darkseid is going, you are coming with me!"

Dick struggled, but between the explosion and his injuries, he was in no shape to fight. If letting Darkseid pull him into the boom tube sent them both to Apokolips, he had no problem going along for the ride and saving everyone else.

Just as they were about to pass through the portal, there was a crackle of electricity and a bright flash of light. He heard Darkseid scream and the hand around his ankle was gone. The boom tube began to close, and Dick sighed in relief.

_Wally._

But when Dick glanced up, Wally was nowhere to be found and he was still in front of a boom tube, though it looked different than it had a minute ago.

_What's going on?_

His strength was fading fast and the chunk of concrete he was holding onto gave way. The pull of the boom tube sucked him in and just as he passed through it, he saw Wally. There was a look of absolute horror on his face.

And then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Trigger warning: someone has a panic attack.

* * *

Dick opened his eyes and groaned.

The sky above him was dark, save for the occasional flash of lightning, and a steady rain fell. After a particularly brilliant lightning strike, he recognized where he was.

It only rained like this in Gotham.

The rain never bothered him while he was working; his suit repelled water and was well insulated. But even as a child, he loved the rain. He used to drag his mother along when he skipped through puddles and splashed as much as possible. It was more fun to play with her in the rain and get soaked than to sit cooped up in a trailer all day. He could only play so many games of Go Fish before he went stir crazy.

But this wasn't the circus and he wasn't a kid.

From what he could tell, he was lying in an alley next to a stack of rotting wood pallets. He took a deep breath and recognized the unmistakable scent of saltwater, grease, and fried food before he coughed painfully. Glancing down, his eyes widened, and he ripped off one of his gloves with his teeth.

There was a ragged hole in his suit just below his ribs on the right side, and when he probed with his fingers, they disappeared into his abdomen _much_ further than they should have. He winced and pressed his palm flat against the wound. There was no way to tell how long he'd been out, so he needed to get moving. He began to push himself into an upright position when his left arm immediately gave way in a flash of white-hot pain, sending him back to the asphalt in a face plant.

_Well. __**That's**__ broken_.

Dick winced and rolled onto his other side. Using a dumpster behind him, he slowly propped himself upright. In addition to the abdominal wound and the broken arm, and he ventured a guess he had some kind of injury to his right thigh, based on the sharp throb that went in time with his heartbeat. Not to mention his face felt he'd gone a few rounds with Rocky Balboa.

He reached up with his good arm to activate his earpiece only to find it in pieces, useless. There was a second communication device built into his mask and he tapped it twice to activate it.

"This is Nightwing requesting assistance. I'm in Gotham. Chinatown, I think. I need medical attention ASAP. Report to these coordinates with evac."

He tapped the button again to save the message and send it before taking off his other glove, his mask and the chest plate of the suit. If he had to go to a hospital, he couldn't show up as Nightwing.

Once his gear was stowed under the pallets, he crawled toward the lights at the end of the alley. The sign above his head was a little blurry, but he committed the street names to memory. He had no way of knowing how much blood he'd lost, but based on his level of wooziness, he guessed it was substantial. Climbing to his feet and stumbling from the mouth of the alley, he bumped into a delivery man. The guy dropped the box he was holding and turned to face whoever ran into him.

"Hey, asshole, watch where you're—"

As soon as he saw Dick's pale face and the blood seeping through his fingers, he recoiled in shock.

"Hey, Frank! Call an ambulance! This guy's been stabbed or somethin'!"

Dick felt his legs give out from under him and braced himself for another collision with the pavement, but a pair of strong hands caught him and lowered him to the sidewalk.

"Hang on, man. Help is comin'."

Dick was too out of it to care.

* * *

Usually, rainy nights like this one were insanely busy in Gotham General's emergency department, but tonight was an exception, one Jason was grateful for. It was the second half of a double shift and the first half had been a doozy: car accidents, heart attacks, and one man unlucky enough to get hit by lightning. He was in the staff lounge with his feet up, trying to catch twenty minutes of quiet time when he was paged.

"Doctor Todd to the emergency department, paging Doctor Todd to the emergency department."

Jason groaned and hauled himself off the couch, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and finishing his coffee.

_So much for a cat nap._

He arrived at the ambulance bay as the doors flew open, followed by two EMT's pushing a gurney. Jason fell into step with them and put on a pair of gloves as he studied the bloodied face of the man on the gurney.

"What do we have, Alex?"

Alex, the driver of the ambulance, handed another gauze pad to his partner Emily.

"So far, he's a John Doe. Found in an alley off the parkway in Chinatown. Lacerations to the back of his head, his upper back and both shoulders. Looks like there could be shrapnel bilaterally along both scapulae. Large puncture wound to the right upper quadrant. Possible left ulnar fracture. Facial lacerations and a large contusion on his right thigh."

Jason whistled softly and stepped back so Stella could take the guy's vitals. Once she read them out, Jason ordered a saline IV, a battery of x-rays, several units of O-negative blood, and a surgical consult.

"Page Doctor Drake and tell her to hurry," Jason said, leaning in to inspect the abdominal wound. "I'm not gonna be able to close this down here, not with the risk of a liver laceration."

Stella disappeared and Jason began examining the rest of John Doe's injuries. He was covered in a multitude of scars, some newer while others had been there a while. He was in good shape physically- well-muscled with a health body weight. From what Jason could tell, he looked to be about five-ten and a hundred and seventy pounds, give or take.

Stella reappeared next to him and went back to checking vitals and cleaning up his facial injuries, none of which appeared to need stitches, though the one on the back of his head probably would.

"Roll him toward you so I can check out his back," Jason said. "I want to get a look at the shrapnel injuries."

She carefully rolled the man toward her and Jason bent down, frowning as he cut away the fabric obscuring his view. There was bruising beginning to form in addition to several small wounds that bled sluggishly. He met Stella's eyes and nodded, giving her permission to roll him onto his back again.

"Those can wait, though I'm now concerned about his lung function. There's bruising to his upper back, like he's been in some kind of explosion. How are his breath sounds?"

Stella moved a stethoscope around his chest, listening intently.

"No sign of fluid. Breaths are shallow, but steady."

Jason looked down at him, noticing the tightness in his features, even in unconsciousness.

"That's likely because of pain. Give him ten milligrams of morphine."

"Yes, doctor."

She reached for the oxygen mask and gently fit it over their patient's mouth while Jason signed off on his treatment orders. Before he handed the tablet back to Stella, something caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes, studying the man's face. Stella reached for the tablet and hesitated when she saw Jason staring at him, his eyes wide.

"Stella? This guy look like anyone you know?"

She paused and studied the unconscious man before shaking her head.

"It's impossible to tell with all the bruising and swelling on his face. Ask me again later."

Before Jason could comment further about their John Doe looking familiar, he heard the trauma surgeon Stella paged.

"You rang?" she asked, sidling up next to him and jabbing an elbow into Jason's ribs.

"John Doe brought in from Chinatown. Penetrating wound to right upper quadrant. Can't do an MRI with possible shrapnel in his back, so we don't know the extent of the damage yet. Your thoughts?"

Stephanie Drake snapped a pair of gloves over her hands and lifted the dressing covering the wound. She frowned as it oozed, trickling down his side and leaving a dark red trail behind.

"Looks like it might have nicked a vein or his liver, whatever it was. Let's take him upstairs so I can go in and stop the bleeding."

They both removed their gloves and along with Stella, pushed the gurney to the elevators.

"I'll call upstairs and let them know you're coming," Stella said as she pushed the call button. Jason nodded.

"Thanks."

Stephanie read through John Doe's chart as they waited, all the while feeling Jason's gaze on her. Apart from the wound on his abdomen, the patient's other injuries weren't too serious. And based on his steady vitals, the abdominal wound was indeed critical, but not life-threatening.

As the elevator doors opened, she glanced down at his face, still obscured by the oxygen mask. But even with that, he looked familiar. Before she could ask, the doors closed and they pushed the gurney into the elevator. Once on the surgical floor, Jason followed Stephanie into the washroom. He leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed as she began to wash her hands.

"It's scary how much our John Doe looks like him," she said, looking up at Jason. "Same build, similar hairstyle. It's eerie."

Jason nodded, peering through the window above the sink.

"You're telling me. Even with the bruising and the lacerations."

"Was he conscious at any time?"

"No. The guy who called it in said he crawled out of an alley in Chinatown, then passed out."

She finished scrubbing, then rinsed her hands and held them up in front of her.

"I'd swear it was him too, Jay. But it can't be. You and I both know Richard Grayson died on my operating table six months ago."

They both fell silent as she turned to enter the operating room.

"Page me when he's out of surgery. Please?"

Stephanie nodded and backed through the door. Jason headed back downstairs to the emergency department wondering who the hell their John Doe was, and why he looked like his dead best friend.

* * *

Once again, Dick woke up not knowing where he was.

He looked around the room, taking note of the IV pole next to his bed and the sterile white bedding. His left arm was in a cast, and any movement of the muscles in his face hurt. To his left in the hallway, he heard voices, and he carefully turned his head.

A doctor who looked a lot like Stephanie was talking to one of the nurses. She was wearing navy blue scrubs and she wore her long blonde hair in a French braid. Before he could try and figure out what they were talking about, another doctor appeared. He was wearing dark green scrubs and both of his arms were covered in colorful sleeves of tattoos.

_When did Jay get so many tattoos?_

Something was very wrong with this picture and Dick was sure it wasn't the painkillers he knew he was on.

His heart rate sped up as he panicked, and not-Stephanie looked up at him. She elbowed the other doctor and they both entered his room. Once they were close enough, Dick could see their hospital badges.

Stephanie Drake, MD

Jason Todd, MD

_What the fu—_

"Easy, man. Try to calm down. You're in the hospital and you're safe," not-Jason said, watching the monitor next to the bed. Not-Stephanie went around to the other side and sat in the chair.

"Do you know where you are or what happened to you?"

Dick thought for a moment, willing himself to calm down. The post-anesthesia feeling always weirded him out, but this was so much worse because he hadn't woken up at the Manor.

"I'm in Gotham," Dick said quietly. "But I don't really remember what happened."

"Fair enough. Should we continue to call you John Doe or is there something a little more personal you prefer?" not-Jason asked. "The paramedics didn't find any sort of identification on you."

Dick swallowed hard; his throat was irritated by the breathing tube they used during surgery. He fumbled to come up with a name.

"You were half right," he joked. "Name's John Malone."

Jason and Stephanie both looked at each other, clearly skeptical, but thankfully they let it go.

"Nice to meet you, John. My name is Doctor Todd," he said, gesturing to Stephanie. "This is Doctor Drake. I work down in the emergency room and she's the surgeon who patched you up."

Dick looked down at his cast and cleared his throat again.

"Thank you."

He felt Jason staring at him, but he didn't pay him any mind. He seemed to take the hint and turned to leave.

"I'll go let the nurses know you're awake. Doctor Drake will fill you in on everything else."

She waited a minute after he left to start talking.

"Don't mind Jason; he's a bit of a worrier," she said. "I've known him for years and he was like that even before med school. Too tough to show it, though."

At the mention of Jason's name, Dick felt himself smile.

"I know someone a lot like that."

"Do you, now? That's good." She leaned forward and held up a tablet. "I'd like to expand on that, but first I want to go over a few things. Can I go through your chart with you before I head out?"

Dick shrugged.

"Sure."

"As you likely guessed, there's a fracture in your left forearm. It's an oblique fracture to your ulna, but it was clean and didn't require anything other than traction to set it. You'll be in the cast for six to eight weeks."

She looked up from the screen and raised an eyebrow at Dick's lack of reaction.

"Not your first time in a cast?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, then. We pulled some shrapnel from your back and I repaired a minor laceration to your liver." She paused, waiting for him to offer any information about what happened. When he didn't, she shrugged. "And you have a large contusion on your right thigh. We're keeping an eye on it because if your body doesn't begin to reabsorb it, we'll need to drain it. Any questions?"

Dick forced himself to look at her. She looked almost identical like the Stephanie he knew, but there were subtle differences. Her frame wasn't quite as muscular. On her right hand, her pinky and ring fingers weren't crooked from throwing a bad punch one night in the Narrows on her first night as Spoiler. And there were no scars on her forearm, from the time she and Damian had to leap through a plate glass window.

"No, thank you. I'm feeling a bit tired, so I think I'll try and sleep for a little while."

"Here's the call button," she said, pointing to the railing of his bed. "If you need _anything_, let us know, alright?"

Dick could feel her looking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact again.

"I'm not leaving until you answer me," she teased. "C'mon. Humor me. Tell me you know how to use a button and I'll get out of your hair."

When Dick smiled and nodded, she stood up.

"Good. I'm off in an hour or two, so after that you'll have Doctor Jenkins checking in on you. He's a nice guy and will take really good care of you."

She paused in the doorway and looked back at him, her expression a mixture of pain and confusion. He was about to ask if she was okay when she blushed and cleared her throat awkwardly.

"I'll be back tomorrow, so I'll pop in and check on you, if that's okay."

Dick nodded absently and she disappeared down the hallway.

Once he was alone, he fumbled along the panel at his bedside, looking for the remote for the TV. He scrolled through channels until he found a twenty-four-hour news network and was just in time for a segment on finance.

"_This morning, Wayne Enterprises confirmed their plans to open another research facility, this one in South America, to join the efforts of local governments to combat a strain of influenza that's left hundreds dead since it was discovered five weeks ago. In a press conference outside their headquarters in Gotham, Bruce Wayne-"_

His breath hitched in his throat as Bruce rose from his chair beside the board members and stepped up to the podium. Dick paid no attention to anything Bruce said, only taking comfort in hearing that familiar deep, rumbling voice. Though he knew this Bruce was likely much different than the one on his Earth, whenever he was sick or hurt, Dick always got homesick. And listening to Bruce reassure anyone listening that Wayne Enterprises would help find a way to take care of everyone made him feel better, more so than anything the doctors could do for him.

The program cut away to another segment and Dick continued channel surfing, focusing on news networks. But no matter which network he watched, one thing was always the same. There was no mention of anyone who was usually causing trouble in the city. Nothing about Harvey Dent or the Riddler. No mention of Oswald Cobblepot, the Falcones or the Maronis. And the glaringly obvious ones, Joker or Arkham, weren't mentioned, either.

This version of Gotham apparently didn't have the nasty villain infestation his Gotham had.

_Well, aren't they lucky._

The ticker along the bottom of the screen mentioned a situation overseas that Wonder Woman was resolving, one tied to something Superman did a week prior. Before he could read anything further, there was a knock on the door frame.

"Hi, John. My name's Sophia. I'll be your nurse the rest of today."

She came in pushing a small cart with a computer on it. Noticing Dick was staring at it, she smiled.

"I'm here to collect some information from you, that's all. How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugged and turned off the TV. He regretted it immediately; the silence in the room was stifling.

"Been better, obviously. But I'm not in much pain, if that's what you're asking."

Sophia nodded and began typing.

"I'm still going to give you a little something; the medication you were given right after surgery is going to start wearing off soon. Better to stay ahead of it."

"Uh, no thanks. I'm fine. I don't need—"

He tensed and bit his tongue as he felt his hands and fingers begin to tingle. Pain medication meant sleep. Sleep meant time wasted in figuring out how to get home. It meant having to trust complete strangers when he had no backup plan. His breathing sped up and according to the aggravating beep of the heart monitor, his heart rate went up, too. He could feel sweat build along his hairline.

"John," she said softly. "John, look at me."

She pushed the cart aside and approached the bed.

"You're safe here, alright? And I'll get you through this. Can you trust me to do that?"

Dick turned his head and made eye contact, though doing so made him dizzy. He managed a nod and scrunched his eyes closed.

"I think so."

"Good. I'm going to sit here for a moment until you're feeling less panicked. Then we'll talk about pain medication again, okay?"

She reached for his hand and the moment she took it, Dick squeezed.

"Is there anyone I can call? Anyone you'd like to come visit you?"

That gave Dick something else to focus on and he felt the tightness in his chest begin to ease.

"I'm not from around here," he said breathlessly. "But it's okay. I just…" he took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling.

"I just need a tablet or a laptop. Something I can use to e-mail a friend of mine."

Dick had to give Sophia credit- she disguised her disbelief in his story, but not well enough. Had he not been trained so well in readying body language he would have missed it.

"Look, I know it's a strange request, but—"

"No, it's okay. I'll grab one from the occupational therapy department."

She smiled and squeezed his hand one more time before she let go.

"On one condition."

He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Fine, but a small dose. I don't like feeling doped to the gills."

Sophia grinned and raised her hand to high-five him.

"Deal."

* * *

Dick rubbed his eyes with the palm of his good hand. He'd been reading nonstop for two hours and with every page he finished, he felt more and more hopeless he would ever get home. The moment he woke up in that alley, he knew he wasn't in his Gotham. But _this_ Gotham?

This place was like paradise compared to home.

Yes, there was a Batman here. But there was no Robin and there never had been. And this Batman didn't have a penchant for sending criminals to the nearest emergency room, not that he necessarily judged Bruce for that. His methods could be effective in certain situations. A quick Google search proved his earlier observation about the lack of top-tier criminals. The extent of organized crime in this Gotham was an underground sports betting ring or a group trying to smuggle in narcotics- nothing to the extent of what they dealt with at home.

Next, he went looking for family. And that hurt more than any physical injuries could.

On this Earth, John and Mary Grayson lived well into their eighties, dying of old age within eighteen months of each other. Thomas Wayne lived until the age of seventy-nine, with Martha surviving until she was eighty-three. Thomas died of cancer; Martha, a broken heart. Their son Bruce didn't go to medical school; he took over Wayne Enterprises in his late twenties when Thomas retired, and he excelled at his job. Like his father, Bruce appeared to be well-liked, respected and was an active member of the community- running charity 5k races, holding regular fundraisers at the family estate and poking fun of himself during interviews.

Damian Wayne lived abroad and was the head of his mother's Royal Guard. When Bruce and Talia split, Damian remained in the United States and attended a top military academy before returning home to protect his mother and their people. His childhood appeared to be that of a well-rounded child with two parents who loved him. And this Talia was a loving mother with her son's bests interests at heart, not those of a maniacal tyrant.

Tim Drake worked alongside his father at Drake Industries. He married Stephanie Brown six years prior, and from the lavish wedding announcement, it had probably been a fairy-tale wedding. Two years after that, there was a birth announcement. Madeline Grace was born two weeks early, but was a healthy seven pounds, two ounces. Dick didn't recognize the name of Madeline's godmother, but he knew her godfather.

Jason Todd was a longtime family friend and a topnotch emergency physician at Gotham General.

Dick covered his mouth to smother a sob. He knew he should quit reading, but he couldn't help it. Everyone in his life back home deserved so much more than what they had. He needed to know that somewhere they were living the kinds of lives he wanted for them. He pushed the pain back down into his chest and sighed.

_You've always been a glutton for punishment, Grayson._

He entered Jason's name in the search bar and kept reading.

Jason Todd grew up in a working class neighborhood, the son of Willis and Catherine Todd. They were hard-working people with a shared passion for education and serving their city, and they raised their son to believe in the same. When they were both killed in the earthquake that leveled a quarter of Gotham years ago, Jason was fourteen and doing well in high school. He received a Wayne Foundation grant to an Ivy League university, and then went on to graduate at the top of his class at Gotham University Medical School.

For a moment, immense pride replaced the painful ache in Dick's chest, and he allowed himself to smile. He'd always believed Jason would make a great doctor, the way he always took charge when one of them got hurt. And despite how hard Jason tried to hide it, Dick knew he loved taking care of everyone. He could be affectionate without having to justify it.

In the time he'd spent researching, the only connections he found were between Tim, Stephanie and Jason. Dick shifted to prop himself upright and winced when he moved his leg. He promised Sophia he would take the pain medication once he was finished with the tablet, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could put it off. His leg started to throb an hour ago, and the incision on his abdomen an hour before that.

There was only one more person he wanted to look up, and he typed his own name in the search bar. He closed his eyes and hit 'enter'. When he opened them, he couldn't believe what he saw.

Among a smattering of gossip sites talking about his short, but brilliant acting career, he found his obituary. The photo next to it showed his smiling face, and he was dressed in a suit waving to a crowd of people. He recognized a popular New York theatre in the background.

"_Richard John Grayson. Born March 20__th__, 1991 in Brașov, Romania, to John and Mary Grayson. Died April 23__rd__, 2019, due to injuries sustained in a car accident in Gotham City. A celebration of life will be held on April 26__th__, 2019, at Divinity Church at 5pm. Visitation from 3p-5p. A private burial will follow."_

He dropped the tablet and ran his hand through his hair, tears blurring his vision.

Because of _course_ in a universe where his family was happy and healthy, he wouldn't be around to see it.

Without bothering to read any further, he cleared the search history and tossed the tablet toward the end of the bed. Had it been his own, he would have whipped it across the room in anger. He glared out at the late-afternoon sun and let his mind wander. The last thing he remembered was being blown up and grabbed by Darkseid before being pulled through a portal. Granted, he hadn't wound up on Apokolips (and was beyond thankful for that), but he had no idea which world he was on, how he got there, or who he could talk to.

He felt the tingling again and before it could devolve into a full-blown panic attack, he hit the call button and Sophia came in shortly after with a syringe.

"Did you find what you needed?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she frowned. "Are you okay?"

Dick didn't have the energy to pretend any longer.

"No, not really," he whispered. "Everything hurts."

Sophia pursed her lips and studied him a moment before reaching for the port in his IV. She injected the medication into the line and waited patiently until he looked up at her.

"If it's the kind of thing pain medication doesn't help, I'm a great listener," she said. "Or I know other people who can help, too."

Dick laid back, sighing when the medication began to work.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. You're gonna be okay, John. Things will be better next time you wake up."

As she lowered the head of the bed, Dick closed his eyes and let himself believe the lie.

* * *

Terms you might not know:

**oblique fracture**: a break in a bone that's diagonal, not straight across  
**hematoma**: a collection of blood in tissue after a traumatic injury; it collects outside blood vessels


	3. Chapter 3

It only took until day two for Dick to realize he was more than ready to leave.

But according to Stephanie, he wouldn't be discharged for another two days on account of the hematoma that formed in his leg, and as a precaution against any further bleeding of his liver. Though he knew she was right, he didn't have time to stay cooped up in a hospital. He should be out on the streets trying to figure out a way to get home.

The only benefit of being confined to his room was he memorized the routine of the staff on his floor rather quickly. Between shift changes, cleaning staff, and doctors making their rounds, he discovered a small window of time when there would be almost no one around to catch him when he made a break for it.

Well, when he hobbled out the back door, but whatever.

The only thing he still needed was something to wear and that was easy enough to remedy. When the guy pushing the laundry cart stopped at the nurses' station to flirt with the charge nurse early that morning, Dick swiped a set of navy-blue scrubs and a white long-sleeve shirt. He stuffed them under his pillows before the guy went back to work, none the wiser his cart was now missing a few items.

That was three hours ago and until he could make his escape, he had to wait. And as someone who wasn't accustomed to sitting around, it was excruciating. But it wasn't long until he had a visitor. He heard her coming before he saw her.

_Just like the Steph I know_, he mused with a smile.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Stephanie asked, leaning against the door frame. "Whatever it is, are you allowed to share?"

Dick felt a twinge of guilt in his gut but tried to ignore it.

"Nothing special, just feeling good."

She took a seat in the chair by the bed and Dick noticed how frazzled she was. Thick strands of hair had fallen out of her bun and there were dark circles under her eyes. But as exhausted as she looked, she was still genuinely smiling.

"I'm glad to hear that. How's your pain?"

He honestly considered the question before answering, figuring it was better to be straight with her than to try and cover it up.

"Comes and goes, but it's never more than a five or six."

That piqued her curiosity and she sat forward.

"Now, are we talking a _normal_ five or six, or a five or six for someone who has a high pain tolerance?"

Dick adjusted the head of his bed so he was sitting almost upright and turned toward her.

"Look, doc, I—"

She held up a hand and Dick fell silent.

"I'm not trying to pry, John. But with the physical condition you're in, I'm guessing you're an athlete of some kind, so you're probably used to pain."

Dick opened his mouth to defend himself, but based on her expression, he chose not to say a word.

"If we can't dose the meds correctly, they'll either knock you out cold, which you don't want, or they won't make you comfortable. So," she said, leaning into his line of sight, "normal five or six, or high five or six?"

"High," he said softly.

"Noted."

She leaned back and inhaled, holding her breath for a moment before letting it go.

"Long night?" Dick asked.

"Sort of. Ever have one of those nights when things just keep coming, and you don't even have a chance to stop and catch your breath?"

She looked at him with a tired smile, one that was achingly familiar. He felt himself relax and sat back against the bed when his incision started to hurt.

"Yeah, I have. But the sun always comes up after nights like those, and that helps."

Her smile faltered a moment and she looked away, swiping at her eyes with her fingertips. Dick frowned, the urge to comfort her growing with each passing second. He knew this wasn't Stephanie as he knew her, but he couldn't suppress the urge to comfort her. She still felt like family.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. That just…" she sighed and closed her eyes before smiling to herself as she opened them again. "That sounded like something a friend of mine would say."

"Sounds like he's a smart man," Dick teased. "I'm flattered."

She laughed, covering her face with her hands.

"He was, yeah. Smarter than he ever gave himself credit for."

His grin faltered and he watched her shove her hands into the pockets of her scrubs.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

She looked up at him and though her eyes were glassy with tears, she smiled.

"Thanks. I miss him terribly."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes as the morning sun rose higher into the sky. But as comfortable as the silence was, Dick's leg began to throb. It was getting harder to pretend he was fine. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it.

"John, are you in pain?"

He let go of the breath he was holding and hesitated before answering.

"Yes."

"I'll be right back."

She went out into the hallway and talked to the nurse at the desk before returning to his bedside. Moments later, the nurse joined them with a small vial and a syringe.

"Doctor Drake, wasn't your shift done like, three hours ago?"

Dick watched as Stephanie stretched and smiled, lazily shrugging one shoulder.

"Yeah, but surgery ran a little longer than we anticipated. And you know me. I always check on my patients before I leave."

Rachel playfully rolled her eyes.

"What, you think I can't look after John, here? He's been a model patient. Haven't you?" She winked at Dick before drawing medication from the vial in her hand.

"Absolutely." Dick grinned.

Stephanie snorted and checked her watch.

"Don't let his charm fool you. The moment your back is turned, he'll be causing trouble."

"Hey!" Dick squawked. "I resent that implication."

"That's exactly what a troublemaker might say," Rachel said. "What do you think, Doctor Drake?"

Stephanie nodded, her eyes full of mischief.

"As a former troublemaker, I call 'em as I see 'em."

"Sure, gang up on the invalid," Dick laughed. He watched as Rachel injected the medication into the IV bag hanging beside the bed, knowing he could likely miss his chance to get out if he got too drowsy.

"This should knock the pain back," Stephanie said quietly, picking up on his apprehension. "But it's not a high enough dose to make you feel as loopy as you did after surgery."

Dick eased himself back against his pillows, the lump of the scrubs hidden there reminding him of his plans.

"I appreciate that, thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm gonna head home, but I'll come visit before my next shift."

She gently patted his arm before she stood up.

"Be good," she teased before going serious again. "Tell Rachel if you're in any pain, alright?"

Dick nodded before lowering the head of the bed. He felt tired and relaxed, but so far, not groggy enough to sleep all afternoon.

He rolled his head to the side as Stephanie left, frowning when he saw Jason just outside his door. Concentrating as hard as the medication allowed, Dick tried to follow his side of the conversation by reading Jason's lips.

"How's he doing?"

Stephanie nodded her head.

"Any signs of decreased hepatic function?"

She shook her head and Jason was silent for a few moments.

"And the contusion on his quadriceps?"

Stephanie shrugged.

"Think it'll need to be drained?"

Again, she shrugged, and Dick turned away, too tired to be able to keep up with their conversation any longer.

It felt strange, for both doctors to follow him so closely. In his experience, emergency room doctors didn't follow up with patients quite like this, and for his surgeon to come sit with him just to chat? Something was off, but he couldn't force himself to focus on it too much- not through the fuzzy haze of the medication.

He decided to sleep for a few hours, then put his plan into action.

A few hours rest and he'd be on his way.

* * *

Dick woke up to find his room dark. He could hear were patients and hospital staff out in the hallway, but that was it. He raised the head of his bed so he could sit up, carefully swinging his legs over the side once he was upright. His leg throbbed after the sudden movement and he hissed, gripping the mattress tightly. Only after the pain subsided did it occur to him to check what time it was. He scanned the wall for a clock, panicking when he saw it was three-thirty.

"Damn it," he muttered. How could he have slept the rest of the day and almost all night? Doctor Drake promised she dialed back the dose of pain medication. It shouldn't have made him sleep that long.

Before he could really get his bearings, there was a soft knock on the door frame. It was Rachel.

"Hey, John. How are you feeling?"

She set a small tray on the bedside table. Dick frowned, still trying to wake up.

"I'm fine," he said. He wiggled his feet and toes to increase the circulation after lying still for so long.

"Restless?" There was a hint of a smile in her voice. Dick felt his irritation at sleeping so long begin to wane and he nodded. Getting snippy with her wouldn't do any good.

"Very."

"Understandable. Can I open the curtains? I need to change your bandage."

Dick whipped his head around, noticing for the first time the sunlight streaming in around the blackout curtains at the windows. He sighed heavily and closing his eyes.

He hadn't slept too long, after all.

"That would be great, yeah."

Rachel opened the curtains, pulled the privacy curtain in front of the door, and stopped at the sink to wash her hands. She took a seat on a rolling stool next to the bed and put on a pair of gloves.

"Do you want to lie down for this, or is sitting up easier?"

Dick watched as she neatly laid out the supplies: alcohol pads, tape, gauze, some kind of medicated liquid.

"Can you get to it if I'm sitting? I'm tired of laying down."

"Of course. I'll need you to take your gown off your chest so I can get to the dressing."

She turned to the table, allowing Dick some time to untie the back of the gown and slide it off his arms. He tucked it around his waist and shivered.

"Ready."

Rachel turned and nodded her approval.

"That's perfect. I apologize in advance if this hurts a bit- the adhesive on the tape sometimes sticks too well."

"No sweat," Dick said, raising his arm out of the way. "Do what you need to."

She carefully removed the dressing, humming when she caught a glimpse of the incision. There was a neat line of sutures a few centimeters below his rib cage, and he was certain there would barely be a scar by the time it healed. He was impressed. Dick watched as she cleaned around the incision, prodding gently for any sign of infection before covering it with a fresh bandage.

"Everything looks good," she said, smoothing the final strip of tape in place. "Scarring should be minimal. Doctor Drake is one of the best around when it comes to sutures."

Dick pulled his gown up over his arms and shivered once more. He reached behind him again but realized he wouldn't be able to tie the gown since his casted arm was still too sore to use his fingers much. Rachel motioned for him to lean forward.

"Here, let me."

"Thanks."

"Of course. Think you're up to eating anything? You napped through lunch."

She put all the items she'd used back on the tray and headed over to the sink. Once her back was turned, Dick glanced at the clock again. He didn't have long until go-time, maybe an hour at most. But he hadn't had anything to eat in a while and he'd need to build his strength up if he wanted to make it out of here.

"I think I could eat, yeah."

"Excellent! I have a few more patients to check on, then I'll call downstairs and have them send something up."

She left and Dick watched the activity in the hallway. There were a lot of visitors, and between that and some of the nurses getting ready for a shift change, he realized now was his chance.

He climbed out of bed and limped to the door, closing it and drawing the blinds. He retrieved the scrubs from beneath his pillow, changed into them and tucked the gown beneath the blankets. The last thing he needed was for someone to see the empty bed and gown. If Rachel figured he got up to go for a walk or to use the bathroom, it might buy him some time.

The only thing he didn't have was a pair of shoes, but if his acting was good enough, in the rush of people, no one would be looking at his feet.

Dick stopped at the sink and frowned at his appearance. His hair was disheveled and flat. The best he could do would be to wet it down and finger-comb it into something resembling a style instead of actual bedhead. He carefully leaned over the sink, wetting his hair and raking his fingers through it. A scratchy hand towel dried it enough to style. Satisfied it was as good as he was going to look, he went to the door.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the busy hallway. There was a cart near his door and he swiped an empty clipboard as began hobbling down the hall toward the elevator. As he expected, no one noticed the empty clipboard. The long-sleeved shirt hid his cast perfectly. And no one noticed he was wearing black socks with grippers on the bottom.

Dick stifled a smirk as the elevator doors closed.

This was too easy.

* * *

Down in the ER, Jason listened patiently as an elderly woman explained how she tripped and fell. He tied off another suture above her eyebrow and smiled at his intern over his patient's head.

"I'm glad you didn't get seriously hurt, Edna. But I recommend talking to your doctor about getting a cane or a walker. It might help with your balance."

Edna continued talking and Jason tied off another suture. He turned to set his tools on a tray and noticed someone walking very slowly toward the ambulance bay. From the color of his scrubs, it was a surgeon. His eyes traveled down to the man's feet and he almost laughed out loud.

_Funny. Surgeons don't wear nonskid hospital socks_.

He gestured to his intern to bandage up Edna's injury.

"Edna, my colleague Sarah is going to bandage your head and talk to you about following up with your regular doctor. I'll be back shortly."

He discarded his gloves and made his way out into the hallway, stopping a safe distance behind the impostor. A surprised gasp caught in his throat when he noticed the dark hair, high cheekbones and blue eyes. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear the memories from six months ago, reminding himself his best friend was dead. This guy, whoever he was, was just unlucky to look like him.

Jason continued following and spotted the cast once he was close enough, though it was cleverly hidden by a long-sleeved shirt and scrub pocket. He sighed and caught up to John in only a few steps. He carefully wrapped his hand around John's bicep, squeezing just firmly enough to make his point.

"Doctor Malone, I didn't know you were working today. Since you're here, can I get a consult in exam three?"

Dick froze and his shoulders tensed. Jason immediately gave him a wider berth, ready to duck out of the way of a potentially painful right hook, based on the way Dick brought his arm back.

"Just let me go."

While Jason didn't perceive John as a threat, there was still a great deal of malice in his tone. Jason knew he had the size and injury advantage, so he took his chances and stepped in front of Dick.

"Not without answering a few questions."

Dick's shoulders sagged in defeat and he gestured for Jason to lead the way. They ducked into an empty exam room and Jason helped him sit down on a gurney. He watched Dick wince and put a hand to his rib cage. Jason watched closely for any signs he'd re-injured himself but still kept his distance. This guy was like a wounded animal.

"Doctor Drake sign your discharge papers already? That's strange, since she's not back in for a few more hours."

Dick looked up at him, directing a weary but frustrated glare in his direction. Jason held his hands up and sighed.

"I'll take that as a 'no'." When he didn't answer, Jason continued.

"I'm not mad, John. But I'm concerned because you're still in a lot of pain, yet you're trying to walk out of here. What's going on?"

Dick felt his temper flare and combined with the pain he was in, he was close to completely losing his cool. He set his jaw and stared at the floor, trembling with anger and frustration.

"Why do you care so much?"

Jason flinched at the sharp tone. They were sitting in a hospital; Jason was a doctor. It should make perfect sense why he cared. But he struggled to keep his emotions in check because while everything about this John Malone looked familiar, his personality couldn't have been more different than Richard. He shook his head, unable to say anything at the moment.

Dick noticed the hurt on Jason's face and sighed but remained silent. Clearly this guy cared, but why? What was it about him that made two total strangers care about him so much? He watched Jason fight to contain his frustration and noticed the concerned glances he was trying to hide. How he watched every move Dick made, but in a way that was anything but clinical. That's when Dick figured it out.

Stephanie's comment about how he reminded her of someone she used to know.

Jason coming up to check on him, how he didn't just let Dick walk out.

How every time Jason talked to him, he looked absolutely haunted.

They both knew Richard.

_They both knew the other me_.

Before Dick could say anything, Jason started talking again.

"Look. I don't know what your situation is, but what could be so important that you'd sneak out of a hospital with a severe hematoma on your leg that probably needs to be drained, and after surgery to repair a serious injury? Do you care that little about yourself that you're willing to risk your life for whatever is out there?"

Dick opened his mouth, but words failed him. The irony in what Jason had just said was crazy and he felt his defenses begin to crumble as the throbbing in his leg got worse.

"You don't know me," he snapped. "I need to get home and I can't do that if I'm stuck here."

Jason stood and slowly approached, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Dick focused on the colorful tattoos to try and rein in his anger.

"You're right, I don't," he said quietly. "But as a doctor, I have the upper hand here. Tell me what's going on. I can help you."

Dick refused to look at him.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Jason sighed and stopped directly in front of him. Dick stared at Jason's brand-name shoes, wondering if this Jason had the same penchant for expensive footwear as his brother did.

"Try me," Jason said softly. When Dick said nothing, he knelt down.

"Look. Can I take you back upstairs? I'll stop by on my dinner break and we can talk. Please, just…" He scrubbed a hand over his face and back through his hair, leaving it sticking up on end, giving him a rogue-ish charm instead of looking disheveled. "Just give me a few hours. If you can convince me you're fine, I'll get Doctor Drake to sign the paperwork myself."

Dick glanced up to see Jason's outstretched hand. He took it and pulled himself to his feet.

"Promise?"

Jason turned to the door and led him back into the hallway toward the elevator.

"Against my better judgement, yeah. I promise."

"Okay. I'll go."

"One thing," Jason added, following him into the elevator. "Give me the scrub top back. You can keep the rest, but you're not pulling this stunt a second time."

Dick let himself smile and carefully took off the scrub top.

"You have to admit it worked pretty well," he said. "I mean- I was almost to the door."

Jason chuckled sadly and balled the fabric in his hands, squeezing tightly.

"Yeah, well, you kind of stand out."

Before Dick could ask what he meant, the doors opened and Jason ushered him out.

"Let's go. I'll help you back."

Jason wrapped an arm around Dick's waist to take the weight off his right leg, helping him down the hall and into bed. Once he was settled, Jason stepped back, watching as Dick made himself comfortable.

"You need anything before I go?"

Dick's stomach growled loudly, and his face flushed red with embarrassment. The tension in the room disappeared and Jason laughed.

"Apart from that, do you need something for the pain?"

It took a moment, but he eventually looked up and met Jason's gaze, nodding once.

"I'll let Rachel know." He turned to leave but hesitated in the doorway. "Your little escape attempt will stay between us, at least for now."

"Thanks, doc."

Jason surveyed Dick's injuries and sighed. With a smile that did absolutely nothing to hide the pain he was in, Jason nodded and left.

Shortly after, someone from the cafeteria brought in a tray of food and Rachel followed with another dose of pain medication.

"You decide to stretch your legs earlier?" she asked. "I came back to ask what you wanted to eat, and you were gone."

"I needed to see something other than this room," he lied, focusing on the food on the plate. His conversation with Jason had him rattled. "My ER doc saw me and got me some warmer stuff to wear. I wasn't exactly wearing the right outfit for a stroll."

Rachel smiled and paused by the door.

"Doctor Todd is one of the good ones," she said. "One of the nicest people I know. Same with Doctor Drake. They really care about their patients."

"Yeah, they do," Dick said quietly. He turned to Rachel. "Thanks for this."

"You bet. I'll be back later to check in on you."

As soon as she left, Dick turned the TV on, unable to bear the silence. He found a news channel for background noise and GCN was doing a live segment. There was some strange electrical activity at S.T.A.R. labs in Gotham, so the staff was evacuated and would be working out of Metropolis until the Gotham site was deemed safe enough for them to return.

Dick's fork slipped out of his hand, sending macaroni and cheese into his lap.

Strange activity at S.T.A.R. labs.

That could be his ticket home.

He didn't taste any of his food, he was so focused on the news. Thoughts raced through his mind at what this could mean. Were Vic and the others trying to reach him? Had they gotten his message about needing help?

There was one thought, tucked away in the back of his mind. One he didn't want to acknowledge was there, but he couldn't help it.

Did he want to leave a world where everyone he knew was living a life free of immense pain and suffering?

More importantly- could he walk away from his one chance to do the same?

* * *

Medical terms you might not know:  
  
**hepatic function**: liver function


	4. Chapter 4

Jason was sitting next to his bed reading something on a tablet when Dick woke up later. He glanced over at Dick and watched him closely as he struggled to sit up.

"How long was I out?"

Jason shrugged and looked at his watch.

"I've been sitting here for about an hour, but it's been about four since you had your pain meds."

Dick closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing.

"You increased my dosage."

Jason noticed the anger in Dick's voice and raised an eyebrow, but avoided looking at his face, instead focusing on John Malone's medical history on the tablet in his hands.

"You tried to split and were in more pain than you'd admit to. I made a valid medical decision."

He opened his eyes and rolled his head toward Jason. He was furious, but still loopy enough not to be able to do much about it. There was a tray full of supplies laid out on a table next to Jason, including several syringes, bandages and iodine. Dick momentarily forgot about the pain medication.

"What's all that for?"

Jason set the tablet aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He kept his gaze focused on Dick's leg.

"I need to drain excess fluid and clotted tissue from that contusion on your leg."

Dick sat up and looked down at his thigh. He ran his hand carefully over his quadriceps, feeling a large lump under his scrub pants. It hurt more than it ever had.

"And what does that involve?"

Jason finally looked at him, but it wasn't for long- as if it were difficult to look him in the eye. Dick's frustration waned, replaced by empathy. It can't be easy for Jason or Stephanie to look at him, let alone treat him as a patient. He was pulled from his thoughts when Jason answered his question.

"I have to insert a cannula under your skin and into the muscle tissue, attach a syringe to it, and probe around to break up the blood clot. Between that and draining some of the blood, you'll be in less pain once I'm done."

"I don't have a choice in this, do I?"

He watched as Jason sighed deeply and closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged and he dropped his head forward.

"Of _course_ you have a say. You can choose not to let me do this." When Dick opened his mouth, Jason glared at him and Dick remained silent.

"But if you _don't_ let me do this, there's a good chance your muscle tissue will start to die due to lack of blood flow, because of the swelling. Once necrosis sets in, you could develop an infection and go septic. And then you'll get to leave. But you'll be dead when you do."

Dick's eyes widened and Jason realized he'd taken it too far.

"John, I'm sorry." He rolled a stool over and sat next to the bed. "But please let me help you. You'll feel much better afterward."

Dick remembered the obituary he read the day before and gasped.

_Died April 23__rd__, 2019, due to injuries sustained in a car accident in Gotham City._

Richard must have been brought to this hospital after the accident. Jason worked in the emergency room, Stephanie a surgeon. It was entirely possible they both tried to save his life and it wasn't enough.

It all made sense now.

"I'm not him, doc," Dick said softly.

Jason frowned.

"You're not who, John?"

"I know I look like him, but I'm not Richard Grayson."

Jason backed up like he'd been struck, and before either of them could say anything more, Stephanie knocked on the door and walked in. She looked between the two of them and frowned.

"Wow, okay then. You could cut the tension in here with a knife."

Jason abandoned his stool and went to the sink to wash his hands.

"I was explaining to John here why he should let me drain that hematoma. He's not too keen on it, apparently."

"I hadn't had a chance to agree," Dick replied, trying to keep his tone from becoming bitchy. "But I'm glad you're here, Doctor Drake. I want to talk to you about leaving."

Stephanie rested her hands on the foot of his bed and nodded.

"That's why I'm here. Doctor Todd told me you wanted to talk about that. He also told me about your stunt earlier."

Dick looked at Jason again, whose back was still turned.

"You lied to me. You promised you wouldn't say anything."

Jason's shoulders tensed, but he didn't run around.

"Well, you—"

Stephanie cut him off, holding up a hand and turning back to Dick.

"You also promised me you'd behave," she said, raising an eyebrow. "So we're all assholes here, I guess, yeah?"

"Wait- what did _you_ do?" Jason asked. He turned and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Nothing yet," she replied. "But I'm _this_ close to denying your request to leave, John. So spill it. What's going on and why should I discharge you early?"

They both watched him, waiting for an answer, but Jason remained by the sink at a safe distance. Being the only vigilante in the room, there was no way Dick could tell them what actually happened. They would probably call for a psychiatric evaluation and he'd be screwed. Since they were both doctors, he decided to appeal to their sense of logic.

"How long do patients like me usually remain inpatient?" he asked. "Two days, maybe three?"

They looked at each other, exchanging a few subtle movements, but Dick couldn't decipher them. They knew each other too well and he didn't know either of them at all.

"Considering I'm at the end of day two, I'd likely be leaving anyway. And Doctor Todd," he asked and gestured to his leg. "How long would this set me back if all goes well when you drain it?"

Jason's posture deflated ever so slightly, and he went back to tinkering with the contents of the tray at the bedside.

"It wouldn't. You'll get a course of antibiotics, but it shouldn't delay anything."

"And have you seen anything to indicate my liver is still bleeding? Or that my arm wasn't set properly?"

He watched Stephanie's hands grip the foot-board tighter. Her knuckles turned white.

"No, your liver function is close to normal and the x-ray we took of your arm last night was fine."

Dick patted his leg.

"Then let's get to it. I'm ready. I consent, whatever. The sooner it gets done, the faster I'll be out of your hair."

Stephanie continued to stare at Jason, who made every attempt not to make eye contact with either of them. He simply stared at the table in front of him and took a shaky breath.

"A little help here, Doctor Todd?"

Jason turned to face them both, a tight smile on his face before he took a seat on the stool and put on a pair of gloves.

"It's not my call, Doctor Drake. But he has a point."

Stephanie closed her eyes, shaking her head and shoving her hands into her scrub jacket pockets. Dick watched their exchange and felt bad he didn't notice it sooner. Now that they were all in the same room, he could see it clearly. They'd been dragging their feet for the same reason. They didn't want him to leave because even though they knew better, that their friend Richard Grayson was dead, it didn't matter. As long as he was in this hospital, they were getting some sort of second chance to help him, to get closure. If he were in their place, he'd probably do and feel the same.

Guilt set in and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry about all of this," he said quietly. "You guys have been nothing but incredible and I've been a jerk. I just need to get home. I'm sure you understand that."

Stephanie stared at him for a moment before giving him a nod.

"I do. But most people who come in here don't try and sneak out."

Dick held up his hands.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

She nodded again and the room went quiet. Jason was prepped and waiting for Stephanie.

"You'll need to take off your pants," she said with a wry smile. "I'll go put the order in for all of this, but Jason can get started."

Dick felt his cheeks flush and he looked away while Jason pulled a curtain around the bed. Stephanie returned a moment later and tossed a pair of shorts at Dick. He caught them against his chest.

"The best I can do for discharge is tomorrow morning," she said over her shoulder. "It's already too late in the evening and you'll probably want to rest after Doctor Todd is finished."

Before Dick could answer, she was gone. He gingerly took off the scrub pants he was wearing and changed into the shorts. The lump on his leg was enormous, and a startling shade of purple. Before he could say anything, Jason closed the door and pushed back the curtain next to the bed.

"You'll want to lay back," he warned. "This usually makes patients squeamish."

Dick did as he was told and reclined, though he kept the head of the bed raised high enough for him to watch. He watched with fascination as Jason swabbed the massive lump with iodine and injected something into his leg.

"Lidocaine. It numbs the tissue."

After that, Jason didn't talk at all. He inserted the cannula and gently slid it back and forth. Dick didn't feel pain, but he started feeling woozy at watching it move around under his skin, so he focused on Jason for a moment. The way he frowned ever so slightly when he concentrated was the same, as were the bright blue eyes. It was almost as if they were back at the Manor, with Jason taking care of them all after a night out on patrol. Dick felt an intense homesickness wash over him and he forced himself to focus on the here and now, pushing the sorrow down deep, to not deal with later.

He watched Jason reach for a syringe and began drawing fluid out, his movements slow and careful to try and minimize pain. When he reached for a second syringe, Dick turned his head and shut his eyes to stop the tears from falling. He just wanted to go home.

After several long minutes of absolute silence, there was a gentle tap on his knee, and Dick looked down to see Jason turn away with several syringes full of blood in his hand.

"That was quick. And almost painless."

Jason shrugged a shoulder and started gathering everything together.

"Usually is. Most people don't watch, though."

Dick carefully shifted to get more comfortable, ignoring Jason's raised eyebrow. The blankets were down toward his feet and when he leaned to get them, Jason beat him to it.

"Thanks."

Jason watched Dick settle in and tuck the blanket around himself with his good arm.

"How do you feel?"

"Much better, just like you said it would."

Dick looked up at him and managed to make eye contact.

"About what I said earlier. I shouldn't have said anything- it wasn't my place."

"Not sure what you're talking about, but okay."

Dick sighed waited until Jason looked at him. When it was clear that wasn't going to happen, Dick let it go. Jason finished cleaning up and on his way to the door, he paused, his back toward Dick.

"I'll go check with Doctor Drake about your paperwork. I'll stop in again before I leave in a few hours."

_No, you won't_, Dick thought sadly.

* * *

As promised, the next morning he was set to be discharged.

One of the nurses gave him a pair of scrub pants to wear while Stephanie went over his discharge instructions. There was an appointment made for him in a week for a checkup, with strict instructions to call if something happened sooner. He was given a prescription for an antibiotic, a set of written instructions and a sling for his arm. Once they were finished, Stephanie helped him into a wheelchair.

"Ready to go?"

Dick looked down at the bag in his lap and nodded. They stopped outside the elevator and she pushed the button.

"Do you have a place to go, John?"

"There should be a cab waiting downstairs," he replied. "I called a little while ago."

The doors opened to reveal Jason standing there, his hands in his pockets.

"Not what I asked," Stephanie muttered with a smile in her voice before greeting Jason.

"Good morning! Didn't expect to see you yet. Your shift doesn't start until eleven."

Jason shrugged and held the doors open, stepping back as she pushed Dick into the elevator.

"Yeah, well. I thought I'd stop by and make sure he got out of here alright." He smiled and while it didn't quite reach his eyes, Dick didn't take it personally. This was hard on all of them, for different reasons.

"I really appreciate everything you two have done for me," Dick said. "I've done a poor job at showing it and—"

Stephanie waved her hand and shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. It's understandable."

The three of them grew quiet. The number above the door dropped by one, then two, and the silence was unbearable. He heard Jason inhale sharply behind him before Stephanie started talking.

"Right, so Jason and I spoke last night and while he was against the idea, it wouldn't be the first time I disagreed with him, so here goes."

She moved to stand in front of Dick, leaning against the wall of the elevator. Her fingers toyed nervously with the end of her braid and Dick fought the immense urge to smile at her behavior. She was more like the Stephanie he knew than she would ever realize.

"Do you have a brother? Or were you an identical twin? It's absolutely none of my business and you have the right not to answer, but I had to ask."

Dick glanced down at his lap for a moment before looking up at her.

"I'm afraid not. I was an only child."

He could tell she was prepared for that answer, but she still looked disappointed. She nodded and looked up at Jason.

"I told you he'd answer."

Dick heard a quiet snort and imagined Jason was rolling his eyes.

They passed the third floor and approached the second when she started talking again.

"Jason and I- one of our best friends looked almost exactly like you," she said. "And he died about six months ago. So you can understand why this whole situation has been rather… difficult."

The doors opened and this time, Jason got behind him and started rolling him out toward the front door.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Dick said softly. "I can't imagine what that must feel like."

He couldn't see Jason's reaction, but Stephanie laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Losing him was awful but seeing you has helped more than you know." She glanced over at Jason. "Hasn't it, Doctor Todd?"

Jason cleared his throat.

"It has, yeah."

"My, aren't you eloquent this morning?" she teased.

"Not enough coffee yet," Jason grumbled, but Dick could hear the smile he was fighting.

They continued through the main atrium and out the front door. Dick glanced to his left, spotting the taxi he called. The driver got out and waited patiently next to the car. Dick moved to stand when Jason stepped to his side and held out his arm.

"Here, let me help."

He lifted Dick with ease, stepping back once Dick was steady on his feet.

"Thanks."

He handed Dick's small bag to the driver, who opened the back door of the taxi. Dick slowly turned to face both of them. They stared back at him, a brand of sadness Dick recognized etched into their faces. Grief. Regret. He was amazed it took him this long to see it for what it was.

"Thanks for saving my life, both of you. For what it's worth, I've had a ton of medical care over the years and what I got here is among the best."

They looked at each other, then back at him. Jason held his hand out and Dick shook it.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you're okay."

Stephanie did the same and he shook her hand. She pressed a card into his palm.

"That's my business card. If you ever need anything, just call. And Jason's number is on the back."

Dick looked at the card, then slipped it in his pocket.

"Yeah, so this isn't weird at all," Stephanie blurted out. Jason laughed, as did Dick. They were quiet for a moment and the taxi driver politely cleared his throat. Jason stepped forward and pressed a wad of bills into the driver's hand.

"Take him wherever he needs to go."

Dick opened his mouth to protest, but Jason shook his head.

"No arguing. If you listen to me just once, make it this time."

He smiled when Dick sighed and nodded. He glanced at both of them one more time before getting into the cab. The driver shut the door and Dick watched as they turned to leave. She leaned into his side and he put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing. As disappointed as Dick was to be leaving, he was glad their friendship was so strong.

The cab driver took him back to the neighborhood where Dick stashed his gear. When he opened the door to get out, the driver turned in his seat.

"Wait a second, man. Here, take this." He handed Dick the cash Jason gave him. "Doctor Todd helped my kid once and didn't charge me nothing. Least I can do is pay it forward."

"Thank you," Dick said, nearly speechless. "Really."

This truly was a different Gotham, Dick was certain of that.

* * *

He found a motel up the street and paid for two nights, just to be on the safe side. There was a thrift store the next block over and he bought some jeans, long-sleeved shirts and a pair of boots. He picked up toiletries at a dollar store and had enough cash left over for some food and a cheap cell phone. After a nice hot shower, a shave and a bite to eat, he was ready to track down his gear.

It took him a little while to get back to the alley, since he was a little fuzzy on the exact location. But after about an hour, he found the right street and half hour after that, he found the alley. His mask, chest plate, gauntlets and gloves were still there, and the mask's beacon was still transmitting. With any luck, Vic and the rest of the team had locked onto the signal.

He began to limp on the way back to the motel, and by the time he got back, he knew he needed to rest. Thankfully, he remembered to buy some over-the-counter pain medication at the dollar store, so he took that and his antibiotic while he waited for his microwaveable soup to heat. His tiny room had a small table with a chair, and a couch by the window, and he took a seat on the couch, propping his leg up on the chair. He took off the sling and balanced his cup of soup on his good leg, so he could use the good hand to do some research.

But he couldn't concentrate. The room was almost too quiet; there were no sirens, no fights or gunshots. This neighborhood back in his Gotham would have been utterly chaotic, even during daylight hours. He reached for the remote and turned the TV on, grateful for the background noise.

Most of his soup grew cold as he got deeper and deeper into his research. With most of the S.T.A.R. labs staff now working in Metropolis, he had a better chance at getting into the building. But he couldn't do this alone; there was no way he could get in, find what he needed and somehow open a boom tube to get home. He would either get caught or fail miserably and wind up even worse off than he was now.

The only thing left was to ask for help. But who?

He tossed the phone onto the couch beside him and rubbed his eyes. The soup no longer looked remotely appetizing, but the bed was looking like a better and better idea the more he thought about it. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in days, even before the battle outside Metropolis.

He piled the pillows up against the headboard and settled in with an exhausted sigh. The pain medication had taken the edge of the throb in his leg and arm, allowing him to concentrate more on what was on the TV screen. An interview taped several hours ago. He bolted upright, ignoring the pain in his torso. He'd recognize that face anywhere.

It was Tim.

He turned up the volume. Tim was being interviewed by GCN in front of the Gotham S.T.A.R. labs facility. The R&D departments at Drake Industries had partnered with Wayne Enterprises to lend a hand in figuring out what was going on and to get the place back up and running.

That was his in. He could get Tim to help him.

The only problem was he'd have to call Stephanie and tell her everything, running the risk she wouldn't believe him. But it was a risk he needed to take if he wanted to get home. He picked up his phone and fished Stephanie's business card from his pocket, typing in her number. His thumb hovered over the call button and he felt a strange, nervous feeling in his gut.

Dick glanced out the window at the sunny Gotham afternoon. He had a chance to do almost anything he wanted here: go college or find a job, live a life outside of fighting crime. Hell, he could even find someone to settle down with, without the risk of them being hurt by any of the villains who didn't even exist on this earth.

Would it be so awful if he stayed? Would anyone back home blame him for wanting to?

Tim's interview ended and he turned to go back into the building behind him. And that's when Dick saw him. Not only could he get Tim's help, but Silas Stone was standing in the doorway waiting to speak with Tim.

Whether or not it could work, he owed it to himself to at least look into the possibility. He'd wait to make up his mind if and when he had options. Until then, his focus was getting a chance to meet Tim.

He looked down at his phone again and took a deep breath before hitting the green button.

_Here goes nothing._

* * *

Medical terms you might not know:  
**cannula**: a thin tube with a hollow needle at one end used to give medication, remove fluid or insert some kinds of surgical instruments


	5. Chapter 5

There was a diner five blocks from the hotel where they agreed to meet. Dick arrived fifteen minutes early to grab a table in the back and spot them before they noticed him. He felt more nervous than he had in a long time, and he hoped this version of Tim was as open-minded as the one he knew back home.

He saw Jason first, and he was carrying a little girl with dark hair. She clung to his neck and said something to make Jason laugh. He entered the diner and once he stepped aside, he saw Tim open the door for Stephanie. Dick held a hand up to get their attention and Stephanie spotted him first, her eyes lighting up when she did.

She weaved her way through the dining area, grinning as she got closer.

"You look great!" she said. "Still following our instructions, I hope?"

Dick smiled and motioned to the sling before standing.

"Of course."

Jason and the little girl approached, and she hid her face against Jason's neck, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of his sweater tightly.

"Madeline, it's okay," he said quietly. "He's friends with your mom and me." He held out his free hand and shook Dick's hand, smiling softly and nodding. "Hey, John."

"Doc," Dick said with a smile. "Who's this?"

Stephanie shrugged out of her coat and grinned, tickling her daughter's cheek.

"This is our daughter Madeline," she answered. "She'll be five in a few months."

Tim stood behind her, a protective hand on her shoulder. Dick turned and met Tim's stunned gaze, holding out his hand.

"You weren't kidding," he said to Stephanie as he shook Dick's hand. "Hi, I'm Tim. Stephanie's husband."

"Nice to meet you," Dick replied. He gestured to the table. "Please, sit."

The five of them sat down, Stephanie sitting on one side of Dick and Jason on the other, with Madeline in his lap. Tim sat across from him between Jason and Stephanie.

"Thank you all for coming. I have something I want to talk to you about, and before I do, I'll warn you that it's going to sound really strange."

Dick sipped his coffee and glanced around, noticing they were all watching him intently. Jason spoke up first.

"Strange is right up Tim's alley, so you'll have at least one person on your side." He looked up from Madeline for a moment to meet Dick's gaze, grinning at Dick's apprehension.

"You remember how I kept saying I needed to get home?" he asked. Stephanie and Jason nodded. "I wasn't lying about that. But what I didn't tell you that home isn't anywhere even remotely close to Gotham. Well, _this_ Gotham, anyway."

Stephanie frowned at Jason, who raised an eyebrow at Tim. Tim leaned forward, his curiosity piqued, and removed a pen and notepad from his coat pocket.

"Start at the beginning and tell me _everything_."

Forty-five minutes and several cups of coffee later, Dick had told the complete story, minus a few details. Tim took notes and asked a lot of questions, while Jason and Stephanie remained mostly silent. Madeline watched him the entire time, at several points reaching out toward Dick's hand before yanking her fingers back at the last second.

"She wants to thumb wrestle," Jason said, answering Dick's unasked question. "She used to do that with Richard all the time."

Dick turned and offered his good hand to Madeline. She curled her fingers into Dick's fist, her tongue sticking out as she tried to wrestle his thumb with her tiny one. Stephanie looked at Jason before turning to Tim, still in shock.

"So, in a way, he really is Richard?"

Tim shrugged and nodded, adding to his notes.

"Sort of, yes. There's been a lot of study of the multiverse theory, and researchers have gotten fairly close to confirming it's out there. Dick, here, proved it exists, if only by a horrible accident."

Stephanie teared up and Tim wrapped his hand around hers. Jason grew quiet and watched Madeline play with Dick.

"Can he safely tell us about his Earth without screwing anything up?"

Tim pondered the question for a moment before he put his pen down and shrugged.

"It's not about time, necessarily, it's about location. So no, generic information should be fine." He looked at Dick, smiling when Madeline wriggled her way into his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. "But I'd err on the side of caution, anyway."

Dick nodded.

"Ask away."

Jason raised an eyebrow at Stephanie, who gestured for him to go first.

"Is there a Batman on your world? I wanted to be just like him when I was kid, after the earthquake. But once I got a scholarship, I knew I could help more people as a doctor."

Dick smiled.

"Yeah, there's a Batman back home. I've had the pleasure of working with him for most of my life." He felt Madeline's head droop and Stephanie opened her arms, carefully untangling her daughter's limbs from Dick's torso. "He operates a little differently back home, based on what I've read since I got here."

Tim drained the last of his coffee and looked around for the waitress, nodding when he got her attention.

"What do you do for a living, Dick? Surely your night job isn't a full-time one."

Dick hesitated, shrugging.

"Well, it's close. I've been in law enforcement and worked for the government for day jobs. But they always tied into the other one."

"What's your family like?" Stephanie asked. "You're great with kids- I hope you have some."

Dick's smile faltered, but when he thought about his siblings, it brightened somewhat.

"No kids, but I've got a handful of siblings."

Her eyes lit up.

"What are their names?"

Dick glanced at Tim, worried about sharing too much. Tim shrugged, as if to say, 'can't hurt'.

"Jason, Cassandra, Tim, Damian and Duke. Duke was adopted recently."

Jason choked on his coffee and Tim reached over to pat him on the back. He was grinning from ear to ear as he looked at Stephanie, who was fighting happy tears.

"Oh my god, this is incredible!" she breathed. "Am I alive on that Earth, or what?" she asked, turning to Dick. "I'm dying to know."

Tim cleared his throat.

"Sorry. You know what I mean."

Dick laughed quietly at her enthusiasm.

"Stephanie on my earth is a family friend. I've known her for years."

She grinned. Jason had grown quiet, though he was still smiling, albeit sadly.

"What was Richard like?" Dick asked. "I'd love to know more about him. All I had was the obituary," he said sheepishly.

Stephanie explained she met him through Tim at a Wayne Christmas Gala when she and Tim first started dating. Richard was there helping to raise money for a charity Bruce created for college scholarships for local kids. And since Tim had worked with Bruce for quite some time, Bruce introduced them to Richard since they were sort of close in age.

For Jason, he was like an older brother. They met when Jason was in high school. He worked at a coffee shop for extra money and Richard was in town visiting his parents, before Richard's mom got sick. Richard found out Jason got one of the scholarships he helped raise money for and was super excited. They became good friends after that and got together whenever Richard was in Gotham. And when Jason and Stephanie both started med school at the same time, Richard found out and they started hanging out as a group.

Tim explained Richard's parents were actors in Romania, where he was born. He was a natural and came to Gotham for the theatre program at Brentwood. He studied theatre in college, too. When they figured out he could also sing, he moved to New York and was on Broadway for nearly a year. He was signed on to do a huge film, the first in a franchise, when he was killed by a drunk driver. He glanced at Stephanie, who was staring down at a sleeping Madeline with tears running down her cheeks. The end of the story was coming, and clearly she was dreading it. Tim was about to finish the story when Jason started talking, his voice strained.

"He was hit not far from the hospital, just over by the opera house. When he came into the E.R., no one told me who he was because no one could tell. But then he opened his eyes and the minute he looked at me, I knew."

He paused and sipped his coffee, working past the lump in his throat. Dick felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

"His jaw was broken, so he couldn't talk. But he knew it was me and I promised we'd fix him up. Then he winked at me. But he.. he flat-lined on the way up to surgery. I got his heart started again in the elevator, but…"

"He died on the table before I could find the source of the bleeding," Stephanie finished quietly. "After everything Jay and his team did in the E.R., I couldn't open him up fast enough."

They were all quiet for a few minutes after that. Dick had no idea what to say- it must have been awful to watch a friend die like that.

"It's why we have to get you back," Jason said a moment later. "So your family doesn't have to go through what we did." He looked at Tim.

"Can you do it? Can you send him home?"

Tim smiled and underline a passage in his notes several times. It was the name 'Silas Stone'.

"Yes, I think we can."

* * *

That evening, Dick approached the agreed-upon side entrance to S.T.A.R. labs to see Tim clutching a thick manila envelope full of information, along with his bag of gear. Inside, there were letters from Tim, Jason and Stephanie, along with pictures of Madeline and some mementos of Richard's life with his friends. Most importantly, there was a Polaroid photo of the four of them. Tim held the envelope out to Dick as he approached.

"Hey, Dick. This is for you. It's nothing bad, but don't open it until you've got some privacy back home."

Dick frowned, but took the envelope and followed Tim inside.

Silas was waiting in the main laboratory, studying a checklist as they approached.

"Good evening, Tim." He glanced up and looked Dick over. "Dick Grayson, I presume?"

Dick nodded.

"Yess. Thank you for your help with all of this, Doctor Stone. I really, really appreciate it."

Silas smiled and set the clipboard aside.

"I'm happy to help, son. And any chance to learn a little more about the universe is one I'll gladly take." He waved a hand toward a platform behind him. It was humming with electrical activity.

"Right this way, please."

Dick followed Silas over to the platform, while Tim approached a console off to the side and began typing.

"We believed we've targeted their signal strongly enough to open a boom tube to where they are," Silas said. "But I can't guarantee anything beyond that. We just didn't have time."

Dick swallowed hard and looked at him, holding out his hand.

"I understand and accept the risk."

"Do you?"

Dick turned around to see Tim standing behind him, hands in his pockets and an indecipherable expression on his face.

"If this goes wrong, who knows where you'll end up." He cleared his throat and stepped closer, eyeing the platform warily. "But if you stay here, you're safe. You've got people here who can help you, a place to call home," he said, trailing off and staring at the floor.

Dick's heart lurched and he took a step toward Tim, stopping in front of him. His offer was incredibly tempting, especially after the time they'd all spent together that afternoon. But Jason was right. He needed to get back to his family. He missed each and every single one of them, and felt empty without them.

"You have no idea how tempting that offer is," Dick said, squeezing Tim's shoulder with his good hand. "But it wouldn't be fair to my family there to never know what happened to me. Right now, for all they know, I'm dead."

Tim flinched at the words and swallowed hard.

"I know. It's just that losing you again has been really hard on all of us."

Dick nodded.

"I can't imagine what that's like. But I'm not dying. I'm going home. And this time, you get to say goodbye."

Tim sniffled and brushed away a tear with the back of his hand.

"I suppose. As usual, you make a good point."

Dick tossed his head back and laughed.

"Now _that's_ not something I hear that often. Thank you."

He wrapped his arm around Tim and hugged him, wincing as Tim returned the hug in full force. Dick rested his cheek atop Tim's head and smiled.

"I'm going to miss all of you," he said. "But I'll never, _ever_ forget you."

"Likewise," Tim muttered, his face mashed against Dick's shirt. "Just be safe."

"I'll try my best," Dick said. He turned to Silas.

"Ready?"

Silas nodded.

"Tim, if you'll operate the other console. We'll be at full power in thirty seconds."

Dick stepped up on the platform and watched as Silas and Tim took their places behind two computer consoles. He focused on Tim as Silas counted down, smiling one last time as the timer got to zero.

The last thing he saw was Tim fighting back tears as he waved goodbye.

Before Dick could do the same, he was gone.

The boom tube deposited Dick in a field just outside Metropolis, a few hundred yards from where he disappeared.

"Hey, Clark?" Dick called out. "Can you come pick me up? Not really in any shape to hoof it out of here."

Seconds later, Superman landed in front of him, a relieved smile on his face. He carefully hugged Dick before activating his comm device.

"Batman, I have Nightwing. Converge on the battle location from a week ago."

_I've been gone for a week?!_

Clark stood back and looked Dick over.

"Someone took pretty good care of you, kid. I wish I could thank them."

Before Dick could reply, there was a gust of wind and a red blur, followed by Wally hugging him much too carefully for his liking. Dick squeezed as hard as he could.

"We thought we'd lost you," Wally whispered, holding Dick at arm's length. "Until Vic stumbled across your signal, we all thought Darkseid took you with him. Where were you?"

"I'll explain everything later," Dick promised. "But for right now, I just want to go home."

As if on cue, the Batwing landed a hundred yards away and Batman came running. He opened his arms and Dick launched himself against Bruce's chest, not caring in the slightest that his cheek was mashed painfully against Bruce's armor.

"I'm so glad you're safe, chum. We thought we'd… I thought you were—"

"It's okay, B. I'm good."

A few minutes later, both of them satisfied the other was real, they let go and Bruce led Dick to the Batwing. Once they were seated comfortably in the cockpit, Bruce pushed the cowl back and sighed. Dick was startled by how worn down and exhausted Bruce was. He gave Dick a small smile before programming the autopilot.

"Are you okay?" Dick asked. Bruce's façade nearly crumbled, but he held it together.

"Me? I'm fine, now that you're home. How are _you_, Dick? Are you okay?"

He took a moment to study Dick, noticing the arm in a sling and the healing bruises on his face. His eyes widened when he saw the signatures on Dick's cast, and he leaned forward to get a better look.

"Dick, what's all this?"

"I met a few familiar faces while I was gone," Dick said proudly. He removed the sling and held out his arm for Bruce to inspect. The names were indeed familiar, but Bruce was dumbfounded.

_Jason P. Todd, MD_

_Stephanie (Brown) Drake, MD_

_Timothy J. Drake_

There were several squiggles and a few letters below Tim's name, and Dick smiled as he ran a finger over it.

"That's Madeline," he said proudly. "Madeline Drake. She's almost five."

Bruce removed his glove and ran a finger over each of the names.

"What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Well, you'll have time on the way to the Manor. Alfred will want to see for himself that you're okay."

Dick settled against the seat and heaved a relieved sigh. He couldn't wait to get home and see everyone. And for once, he'd allow them all to fuss over him.

After they took off and Bruce deployed the autopilot, he once again turned to look at Dick.

"We weren't sure we were going to get you back," he said softly. "And after what happened right before you…"

Dick put his hand on Bruce's forearm, waiting until Bruce covered Dick's hand with his own.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do to bring you back," Bruce said. "Any of you. I can't…" He paused, breathing deeply and glancing back out the windshield again. "I can't lose any of you again."

"You didn't," Dick said. "I don't know what it was like on your end, but on the other Earth? I was safe and in good hands. So was Gotham."

He saw Bruce's surprised expression and grinned.

"Let's put it this way. Tim was married to Stephanie and had a daughter- that was Madeline. Steph was a doctor and so was Jay. He was also Madeline's godfather. And Damian split his time between you and Talia, who, thankfully, wasn't evil."

Bruce smiled proudly, though he tried to hide it how it saddened him that his own reality was so much darker than that.

"What about you, Dick?"

Dick's smile fell and he looked out the side window.

"My parents weren't murdered, and neither were yours. Mine lived well into their eighties."

Bruce noticed Dick's blatant dodge of his question and it didn't take him long to deduce that on that other Earth, Dick hadn't survived. He chose to let it for the moment, focusing instead on the fact Dick was there, alive and relatively healthy.

"Are you alright, Dick?"

Dick thought about it for a moment, glancing down at his arm. He felt the itch of the stitches on his abdomen and the ache in his leg. It brought everything he'd been trying to suppress back to the surface and he used his cast to push down on the tender spot, the pain distracting him from the last few days.

The guilt for not wanting to come home.

The grief and regret over what could have been.

"You know me, B. I'll be fine."

A moment passed and Dick changed the subject to something easier to talk about, glancing down at the envelope in his lap.

"Did I mention Tim had a _kid_ on that other Earth?"


End file.
